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Eat Your Greens

Jimmy John Junior was a strange boy. He would pogo stick 16 miles every day to get a blueberry blast drink from the nearest gas station. The thing was, his pogo stick was breaking. You see, pogo sticks just aren’t made to go 16 miles every single day, not to mention the 16 miles back home.

So Jimmy John Junior decided to go. To go out and find the perfect pogo stick for him.

He didn’t need friends or family. Jimmy John Junior just needed a good quality Pogo stick. One that he could trust. One that had his back and his feet and hands.

A pogo stick to top all pogo stick. He wanted to go higher and faster than ever before.

Jimmy John Junior headed out. He Pogoed down the little dirt road he lived on. He pogoed down the highway, hitchhiking when he could, but using his pogo stick as his main source of transportation. Transpogotation.

One night, after a long day of hard pogo work, he sat to rest under a bus stop bench. There, under the bus stop bench, he saw a fly. The fly had a pogo stick, of course, as all flies do, and it looked up at Jimmy John Junior, and said hello.

It looked up and said hello from under the Bus Stop bench. It had a little family surrounding it. Its little fly wife, its little fly son, and its little fly-sized pogo stick.

Jimmy John said hello back to the nice little fly and then smashed them with his foot.

He swept them away with his foot and lay to sleep under the Bus Stop bench.

The next morning Jimmy John Junior found himself covered head to toe in flies.

How strange, he thought.

He thought it was more strange than gross. But, he had other places to go, so he swept them off with his hand, grabbed his trusty pogo stick, and started hopping off down the street.

He could see the big city. He could see it in the distance, and little Jimmy John Junior started hopping as fast as his little feet could go.

He traveled all day and all night, until he was in the middle of some strange desert. He had no idea where he was or what he was doing all the way out there.

Day after day, night after night, Jimmy John Junior hopped down this lonely desert road. He didn’t eat, he didn’t sleep, he didn’t breathe, he didn’t even blink his eyes. He just hopped on. Hopped on through rain and storm.

After the 40th year of hopping, Jimmy John Junior started thinking. He wondered if the great pogo city was just an illusion. Just a figment of his imagination. Just a mirage.

That’s it. It was a Mirage.

But then Jimmy John Junior thought, no, this couldn’t be a Mirage. He had seen it from under the Bus Stop bench. And so Jimmy John Junior pushed on, and is still, to this day, hopping.